The Truth
by Caliente
Summary: Hyde-centric one-shot vignette set during the beginning of the ever-loathed season 8 –– Hyde evaluates his failed relationship with Jackie and the marriage he now finds himself part of. –– WARNING: Not a happy J/H ending


**Author's Note: **So, I hit a stall in my epic T7S fic a while back because season eight depressed me so. And I thought, maybe, if I could figure out why they weren't working anymore, I could get over it. This is a result of that. Pretty wangsty and… not a happy ending. Hyde's perspective. No spoilers past the first few episodes of season eight. S'not much but she be all I got.  
**Disclaimer: **I own… a car. It's shiny. But I don't own the rest. Which is decidedly not shiny.

**The Truth**  
by, Caliente

The truth is I love you.

I told you that, once, far too long ago. And, it's as true now as it was then. Even if I can't admit it to you (can barely admit it to myself as is) that doesn't make it any less true. Less real. I know you'd think it was important that I tell you, but I'm not like you. I don't just wear my emotions on my sleeve. I can't. That whole Zen thing… yeah. It's so much a part of me that I couldn't stop it now if I wanted to. Lucky thing I don't, huh? Yeah, life's full of those little ironies, I guess.

Just like that first kiss from back in your stalking days. Don't get me wrong, I hated you stalking me. I mean, I hated it like I hate government conspiracies and having my stash raided. But maybe Mrs. Foreman was right. I hate everything, so it wasn't inconceivable that, even though I hated you and your weird stalker crush, I didn't really hate it at all. Or something to that extent, anyway. Guess life's full of those little oxymorons too.

Which would be why I went out with you in the first place—to prove something to someone. Maybe to everyone. At least, I think that's why. I don't really remember the exact reasoning now. I'm not sure I remembered then, either. It didn't matter. All that mattered by the end of the date was that you were kissing me and I was… confused. In that instant, you knew you didn't love me and I… I didn't know what to think anymore. Like I said—irony.

It was weird. Kissing you wasn't… it wasn't fireworks or rockets or whatever. It wasn't anything like that. It was just… different. Good different, yeah, but I didn't know what that meant. If it meant anything. So, I brushed it off and returned to Zen. Because that's what I do. It's what I'm good at. Just like going back to Kelso was what you did. What you were good at. Your story with him wasn't over yet. And neither, apparently, was ours. Though we didn't find that out until later.

I always wondered why you didn't question it. In that long, hot summer… you never once asked why. And talking is one of your many annoying talents. I guess you just wrote it off with some miscellaneous reason. Boredom. Sexual attraction. The heat. Pick an excuse, right? Don't get me wrong, it wasn't like I was biding my time to get you back or something. Please. Who do you think you're dealing with here? Foreman? It was more like… I was still curious.

Even though you didn't want to know why, I did. Why was it different? Why you? Jackie Burkhart, bane of everything I believed in. Why? But then I realized it didn't matter. I didn't care. Because it was you, Jackie Burkhart, and knowing why wouldn't change anything. Unlike you, I can accept things for what they are. Your grasp on reality has never been that strong. I would say it was another thing I love about you but there's no need to get sentimental here.

So, that's the truth. I… love you. Simple right? No, of course not! Nothing in this life is allowed to be that easy. Haven't I taught you anything? That might be the truth. Our truth. But it's not the _whole_ truth. The whole truth is, I do love you. I will always love you. But that doesn't mean I won't move on. That I haven't already. This marriage… it's not perfect. She's not like you. This isn't like us. It's not like anything. It just is what it is. And what it is is real.

So, there's your truth, baby. Deal with it.

* * *

Me writey much. You review happy. World sing pretty, pretty joy.  



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